


Keep The Door Ajar (when i'm coming home)

by Enby_Tiefling



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Closure, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Grief, Infant Death, Original Child Characters, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Stillbirth, Temporary Character Death, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enby_Tiefling/pseuds/Enby_Tiefling
Summary: There's trouble when the twins are born. Thankfully, there's someone looking out for the de Rolos.





	Keep The Door Ajar (when i'm coming home)

They have twins first.

When Pike confirms it, that there are two heartbeats and four little feet that kick against Vex's swelling belly, she cries for an hour then spends two days in the woods with Trinket. Percival waits, patient as he only ever is with her, and turns his clever hands to woodworking for the first time. When she comes back, hair tangled and filled with twigs and dirt smeared across her skin, there is a double-wide bassinet beside their bed, freshly stained and carved with stills of her beloved Parchwood.

They spend months debating names, making suggestions over meals and books and whispered across their pillows at night. They dance around the ones that mean something, of course they do, but even the half-joking ideas are tucked away for a nebulous later (an impossible-seeming _next time_ ).

"Albert," Percy says, massaging Vex's aching feet. "Charles. Nathaniel. Quincy."

"Quincy?" Vex laughs, turning a page in the book that she rests on top of her swollen belly. "Catherine. Isabel. Jasmine. Norah."

" _Taryon_."

" _Taryon!_ "

-

The babies come.

The labour is long, nearly fourteen hours, and far too soon. Percy sits at his wife's side, lets her bruise and mutilate his hands and call him all sorts of awful names, until she sends him out of the room with a heaving sob through contractions, insisting that she doesn't want to be seen like this. Out in the hall, he paces, the midwife's pursed lips and furrowed brow haunting him as the evening drags on into early dawn.

There's a brief moment of peace when the first is finally born, before the sudden pained quiet is broken by a high-pitched wail that makes Percy's stomach drop. Vex'ahlia laughs, giddy with exhaustion. He enters to find her nursing an impossibly small body, cradling it to her breast and running a finger across the red-mottled pale skin.

Her name is Elaina. There was never any doubt. She has a shock of dark hair and bright blue eyes that may change with age but Percy loves immediately. She's _tiny_ , and his sleep-deprived mind conjures an image of her tucked into the crook of Grog's arm and he's overwhelmed with simultaneous fear and adoration. In an instant, his world shifts on its axis as he holds his newborn daughter. Every atom of his being now exists to protect her, to guard every precious breath and moment. He thought he knew love now, with his sister and his wife and all his ridiculous mismatched family, but it all seems infinitesimal compared to the instant devotion and adoration he feels for Elaina Cassandra von Musel Klossowski de Rolo, first of her name, heiress of Whitestone.

Vex's contractions start again not long after, and Percy is banished to a corner of the room to hold their daughter while she sleeps, swaddled in satin and fleece. Their next child, Elaina's twin, seems eager to arrive, the birth coming much quicker now to everyone's relief.

There is no second cry.

Everything seems to fall apart from there.

-

Vax'ildan tends to the souls drifting through the Astral Sea as he always does. The currents push and pull the wisps to oblivion or damnation or blessed rest, their lights fading as they pass on only to be replaced in quick succession. The tide of death - a phrase that once seemed so frightening, so macabre - is an ever-changing constant, and Vax has learned to navigate its waters with ease. This is the in-between, a place of limbo and rest before the true End. He guides the ones who are lost and comforts the ones who are waiting. They rarely have faces or forms, but he learns the shape of souls and the sounds of words that are broadcast or channeled more than spoken. He is a good Champion, a good Guide, a good Shepherd.

His eye is caught by something impossibly small and impossibly bright. He winces, sighs, spreads his wings and sails over the calmly rushing sea. Children are always the worst to see here. Those who die young often skip this place altogether, swept away into a kinder care, but sometimes a young soul gets caught up in the currents.

He reaches down, cups the soul in his palms -

_Dark hair, blue eyes, a familiar nose and arching brows, he's been loved from the moment of conception and he's never been alone, there was always another heartbeat in sync with his, he never heard the violent sobbing and cries of grief, there was something around his neck, there's only one heartbeat now -_

Vax'ildan weeps, cradling the child to his chest, running his fingers through the downy, ethereal hair. The soul has a form, and it is an infant born too soon, with a wispy shock of hair and long eyelashes and pink cupids-bow lips. He's _perfect_ , he's the single most beautiful thing Vax has ever seen and he was all but married to the Voice of the Tempest. He thought he knew love, from his sister and his partner and his patchwork family, but none of that can compare to the feeling of holding his baby nephew in his arms and envisioning every terrible thing he would do to keep him safe.

And in an instant, he realizes that he's already failed. The boy is here, which means...

He is a good Champion, a good Guide, a good Shepherd.

He rebels, quietly, just one last time. He knows She sees it. He takes Her inaction as permission.

-

Percival sits in an empty guest room, far removed from Vex'ahlia's tortured cries. Elaina sleeps peacefully in his arms. He's grateful that she doesn't wake even as his chest heaves and his shoulders shake. He feels like he's falling apart.

He remembers what madness felt like. The freezing emptiness, the fog, the constant tang of blood on the back of his tongue and the tremble in his hands. How every emotion felt heightened but distant, like an adrenaline rush by proxy. He half expects the still familiar feeling of smoke coiling around his ankles. He misses the weight of a weapon at his side. It feels like something's been knocked loose in his chest, and he doesn't know how to find his balance again. He doesn't know how to fix this.

Vex started throwing things - books, candles, glasses - and that's the only reason Percival left. He could take her tears, her feral grief, her anger. But Elaina had cried and Vex _hadn't stopped_ , and Percy couldn't bear the thought of anyone else holding his daughter, not now, so he took her away, just for a little while.

The balcony doors are cracked open to ease the sudden heatwave that has taken Whitestone. The sheer curtains blow with a salt-scented breeze, the movement masking a dark figure's gentle arrival in a flurry of black feathers.

Vax takes a moment.

Percival is older. Of course he is, time has passed, but the changes still shock him more than they should. There's a gentler slope to his shoulders now, and a softness to his middle - not to say he's unfit, Vax has always known Percy's quite a looker, but he no longer looks halfway to collapsing from exhaustion and his old habit of 'forgetting' to eat. There are lines beginning to form around his eyes and mouth, not pinched and worried but smile lines, signs of a far happier life.

He's shaking, holding himself tightly like he's afraid he might shatter. It's a familiar look, one that threatens to break Vax's heart further when he spots the tiny form in his arms, a gently-breathing newborn that he holds with such impossible delicacy even as he trembles and chokes on his breath. Vex is nowhere to be seen or heard.

Vax looks down at the half-real figure in his own arms, curled up and sleeping soundly with one pudgy hand around one of the straps of his armour.

This is it. This is the moment where he decides for good, whether or not he will turn his back on his goddess just this once. He's at a crossroads, leading to Her continued praise and reward, or his sister's joy at the possible cost of Her patronage and leniency.

Of fucking _course_ he'll choose his family. Every time, no question. If She has a problem with him giving back an innocent newborn's life, sending him back to a family who will love and protect and raise him to be wholeheartedly _good_ , then that's Her problem. He's made his loyalties clear from the start.

He enters the room, his light step made silent by nature of being... whatever he is now.

Percival traces a blighted calloused finger along Elaina's soft cheek, feeling each puff of her breath warm against his cold skin. He's freezing, he's sure he's turning to ice, all that's keeping him thawed is the impossible little life in his arms, this blessed light he doesn't even deserve to look at, let alone touch, she's damned by him, of course she is, her brother was too ( _a boy, a boy, they have - they had a son, he was perfect, he was so still_ ) -

"Percival," says yet another ghost, another sick joke. He curls further around his daughter ( _keep her safe, keep her safe, keep her safe_ ), as if he can shield her from his own madness. "Freddie, breathe. Look at me."

He looks up, because he's always been hopeless and helpless when it comes to both of them. Vax's face is unchanged ( _of course it is, the closest any of them will ever see is Vex's own as she ages_ ), and so painfully sad.

"You would know what to do," Percy whispers hoarsely, resigning himself to yet another spiral into unreality. As long as he doesn't move, as long as Elaina is safe and warm and breathing, it will be fine. He's survived this before. "You would know what to say."

" _Breathe_ ," the ghost urges again, kneeling awkwardly with one hand still across its chest. The other presses against Percy's shoulder. It's a strange feeling, cold and not entirely there, similar to Pike's astral form, buzzing like static. "In for five, out for seven, you know the drill."

He obeys mindlessly, and begins to rock gently in place, ducking his head to look at Elaina. Her slack, blissful expression brings him some modicum of peace as he steadies his breathing.

Vax's hand moves from his shoulder to his face, brushing across his two-day stubble with familiar long fingers, his nails blunt and rounded against his skin. Percy feels his eyes flutter shut, but open or closed all he can see is Vex curled around their son like a dying mother and cub, pouring useless healing spells into him and shrieking at everyone to stay back, _stay back, don't touch me_ -

There's an unhappy little noise, followed by an echo. A peep, echoed again. Elaina squirms in his arms, says " _ah, ah,_ " and another voice answers, " _ah, ah,_ " and this must be it, this must be madness again, somehow even crueller than before.

Vax tries bouncing his nephew as he squirms, opening his eyes for the first time. They're impossibly blue, wide and welling with tears. The hand on Vax's armour stays in place, but the other reaches out, grabbing at nothing as he fusses.

"Percy," Vax says again, getting a bit desperate as he tries to soothe the newborn while keeping Percy from spiralling further into a familiar-looking breakdown. "Look at me, please, I swear I'm really here, look."

Elaina cries, a piercing wail that bounces off the stone walls. Percy clucks his tongue and gently bounces her, remembering his mother's tired instructions when he first held each of his younger siblings.

He looks at Vax, really looks, and starts noting changes - a new braid behind his right ear, his strained smile, his tired eyes.

"You're supposed to be gone for good," he says flatly, bitterly, over Elaina's shrieking. He shifts her to press her ear over his heartbeat. "There's nothing we could do - nothing you'd let us do."

"I'm sorry," Vax says, his hand still hovering by Percy's face. He leans in, pressing their foreheads together. Percy exhales with a sudden shudder, and as the two move closer together he feels Elaina stop her squirming. She babbles, and it's echoed. Something about that nags at him, but he's so hopelessly exhausted and now Vax is -

Vax is -

Percy stands abruptly, shifts to one side to hold Elaina just a bit further away, and his hand flies to his hip only for him to remember that he hasn't carried his gun around the castle in years. Still, he squares up for a fight, chin lifted and shoulders back as Elaina goes back to wailing.

"Show yourself," he commands icily. "I've had a _very_ bad day, so I'd suggest not making this more frustrating than it has to be."

Vax adopts a similar stance on instinct, cradling the baby soul carefully while stepping a careful distance back from Percy. He's quick, but he can't risk the man starting a fight, not now.

"It's me," he says, because it's all he can say. "Percival - Freddie, I swear, it's _me_. I'm so sorry, I hate that this keeps happening, but please, this is important -"

He's cut off by an ear-splitting shriek from the baby in his arms, the first time he's cried this whole ordeal. His face is screwed up and bright red, and fat tears roll down his cheeks as he screams like he's berating the world.

Percy goes numb, just for a moment. He clutches Elaina tighter to his chest, ignoring her crying as static rushes over him. Shaking it off, his eyes dart over Vax's form and land on the squalling baby in his arms. He chokes on his breath, feeling his legs weaken and tremble under him. Sheer willpower keeps him upright.

Vax looks at him with an unusually panicked expression, trying to copy Percy's bouncing and rocking.

"That..." Percy chokes out around the rising lump in his throat. "Vax'ildan..."

"I told you it was important."

Somehow, miraculously, impossibly, it seems like the twins get quieter as they're brought closer and closer. Percy stares in awe at the semi-corporeal glowing form of his son - _his son_ , tear-streaked and whimpering, reaching out one ghostly hand for Elaina to grab with surprising coordination. They both nearly wiggle out of their respective adult's grasps.

Percy reaches out to touch too, but finds that it feels like little more than passing through thick fog, noticeable but largely intangible.

"How?" He asks, looking sharply at Vax. "What's the cost? How did you even -" The rest of the scenario seems to catch up with him now, choking him again. "Gods, _Vax_ , you're really... _How?_ "

At least that smug grin never changes, no matter how strained along the edges.

"I'm kind of cheating right now, but the Raven Queen hasn't smited me yet so I think we're in the clear."

An incredulous laugh rattles Percival's frame as he brings his hand up to poke Vax's cheek - partially to check, mostly to be annoying. It's so easy to fall back into their rhythm, even as it stings.

"So what now?" Percy asks. "Why are you even -" he freezes. "Your sister."

Vax pales, "What about her? Is she alright?"

"...I don't know," Percy says, the sudden rush of giddiness fading as reality seeps back in. He meets Vax's eyes, forcing steel into his voice. "You can't see her."

"What?" Vax nearly shouts, but the babies are finally quiet again, barely awake. He goes for the door but Percy manages to block him. "Dammit, Percival, let me see my fucking sister."

"She's a _wreck_ ," Percy hisses. "And last time you came back, you left again and it nearly broke her." He crowds into Vax's space. "You left her, you left her to me to keep safe, and _you are not safe anymore_."

With a snarl, Vax realizes he can't force Percy out of the way while the baby is in his arms.

"You don't know anything," he says furiously. "I didn't turn against my god for _nothing_ , I didn't bring him here for _nothing_ , and I fucking _missed you_ , you asshole, but I'm not here for you, I'm here for _her!_ "

Percy falters, eyes darting back to what must be his son's soul, cradled in Vax's - his _uncle's_ \- arms.

"What can you do?" He asks, voice strained. "You're no healer, and they said - he was gone before he was born, we couldn't even try and revive him -"

"I'm giving him back myself," Vax says. Strange power rings in his voice, like an echo in many tongues and another voice layered over his own. "No one on this plane could bring his soul back, but I can. I will. But you have to let me through."

Percy breathes hard through his nose, gnawing his already raw lower lips until it bleeds.

Vex isn't okay. As far as he knows, she's still holding their son's lifeless body, mad with grief. She'd looked at him like he was a stranger, eyes glassy with tears and distant, lips pulled back into a snarl Trinket would be proud of.

(Gods, Trinket is still out in the courtyard where he wouldn't be in the way, could he hear Vex's cries? Is there a rampaging bear to worry about too? It's too much, _it's too much_ , and Elaina will need to eat soon, and their son is _gone_...)

Vex isn't okay. She wasn't okay after Vax, either, but that was a cold and empty grief. This is wild and raging, like a wildfire. He doesn't know what to do.

"I can't watch her hurt again," he manages to say. "Losing you nearly killed her. I don't know what this will do. And I don't know if seeing you will make it better or worse."

Vax presses their foreheads together again. It's old habit by now, a compromise between his tactile nature and Percy's aversion to touch, with all the meaning of a kiss or embrace but easy enough to escape or avoid. Percy leans into it willingly now, made softer and warmer by years of peace and easy affection.

"I can't promise it won't hurt," Vax says quietly. "But I _saw him_ , Freddie. He's so _bright_ , just look at him. He deserves a chance, and you and Vex deserve him."

Percy does look, drinking in the sight of his son's face. It's distorted, like looking through water, but clear enough that he can see the beginnings of his nose and Vex's brows and Elaina's rosebud lips. And he makes the only decision he can, the only one he was ever really going to make, despite all his protests.

He steps aside.

-

Vax realizes that he doesn't know exactly how long it's been.

It strikes him as he walks down the familiar halls of Castle Whitestone, noting old and new tapestries and the dark green carpet that replaced the old bloodstained blue one that ran the length of this hallway. Bedroom doors line both sides - he remembers which one he stayed in, and Keyleth's, and Pike's. There's the branching hall that leads to the balcony where Hotis stabbed him, there's the table that once held a bust of some titled old fart that a drunken Grog had knocked over, there's the doorway that Scanlan walked out of before he disappeared for a year. He's not sure how long it's been since he last stood here - or anywhere on this plane. He wonders if his snowdrops are still growing in Vassalheim.

He hears Vex before he sees her. He freezes. For a moment he's lost in a different set of memories, as he hears his sister sing a familiar lullaby.

" _Hush ai laito, uma il- say y' beth,  
Atara will utua lle y' mockingbird_."

Elvish had always fallen from their mother's lips with melancholy, stilted and unsure but loving for all its sorrow. She would clumsily translate nursery rhymes and songs, teaching the twins as best she could. When Syldor arrived, they were passably fluent, the rolling syllables coming easier to them. Her songs never rhymed or followed much of a rhythm, but her voice was soft and warm. Always gentle, their Elaina. Always trying, even cold and hungry and tired.

Vex'ahlia's voice is strained and warbling through the door, peppered with hitched breaths and angry sobs. Vax would know the sound her crying anywhere. She always hates it, and getting angry only makes her cry harder once she's started.

Vax shifts his hold on the boy in his arms and looks back at Percy, who has trailed behind with the young Elaina yawning against his chest. A sudden wave of doubt washes over him, even through his conviction. Maybe... Maybe he _should_ leave her here to grieve. She's always been the strong one, and with Vox Machina and all of Whitestone around her she will heal. Maybe he _will_ hurt her, coming and going like this.

His nephew squirms, his head moving to face the door, following the sound of his mother's voice.

Well, that decides that.

Percy enters first, regardless. Vax has calmed enough with time to recognize that that's his right. With baby Elaina beginning to fuss again, suckling at his fingers, he eases open the door and peers in, mussed white hair falling in his eyes.

Vex is where he thought she might be, curled in a nest at the head of the bed, knees pulled up to shield her front and her hair stringy with sweat and hiding her face. She's shoved the bloodstained sheets and towels away and bundled her favourite silk and ermine robe around her and the unmoving body in her arms. It seems she's at least stopped trying to make him latch to her breast, settling for rocking and singing like he's asleep.

Percival has to shut his eyes and breathe for a moment. _If only he were asleep_...

"Vex'ahlia, darling," he whispers hoarsely. "The ba - Elaina needs to eat."

She peers up through her dark hair, bloodshot eyes meeting his. They're wide and watery, and glassy like they were in the days and weeks after Vax left them. He takes her silence as permission - it's better than the howling sorrow. He's always hated watching her cry. He enters carefully, mindful of the broken glass and pottery and the flowers scattered across the floor.

Neither notice Vax entering behind, light feet made silent, dark armour nearly invisible against the stone walls.

"Let me take him," Percy says, unable to look too closely at the pale, still body. His eyes are closed, long lashes shadowing his waxy cheeks. Elaina fusses, shattering the quiet.

Vex looks blankly at him for a moment before her gaze shifts to Elaina, red-faced and squealing, still wrapped in soft blue.

"He's still sleeping," she says hollowly. Percy feels something broken shatter further in his chest, like glass ground under a heel. "Percy..." Her face crumples. "What did I do wrong?"

His breath catches in his throat, heat and pressure building behind his eyes.

" _Nothing_ ," he says fiercely. "Darling, Vex'ahlia, you did everything right." Elaina's cries reach a new pitch, and Percy feels desperation clawing at his throat. "Let me hold him, love, please. Look at our girl. She's _perfect_ , Vex, _look_."

The transfer of Elaina into Vex's trembling arms, and their son's still form into Percy's, is painfully slow. The sudden shift from his daughter's warm squirming weight to the coldness of his son against his chest nearly sends him back into static and ice, only kept at bay by the knowledge of the glowing soul kept safe by a watchful Champion.

Vax'ildan watches the shadow of his sister in horror. She looks like she's aged a century, drawn and pale and shaking, her hair greasy and tangled, her eyes wide and glassy. The fire he's so used to seeing in her, radiating from every pore ( _phoenix fire_ , he used to say when their mother would tell them stories at night; _dragon fire_ , he used to say with fierce triumph, knowing she was stronger than any ancient beast) is gone, sputtered out like a candle. Like the stubs of wax they used to keep until they were burnt away to nothing, too expensive to replace. Something unbreakable in his sister is gone, scattered in pieces.

_Losing you nearly killed her_ , Percy had said.

_I don't know how to live_ , she'd cried.

He could do what he came to now. He could slip unseen, the shadows embracing him more than they ever had before, and press a kiss to his nephew's brow as he pushed his soul back into his body. He would come alive in Percival's arms, a sudden gasp for breath ending with a shrieking wail to match his sister's. Vex'ahlia would cry again, but her smile would be wide and true. Maybe she would even know it was Vax. Maybe she'd look out the window like she could see him in the dawn. He could drift away, back to whatever consequences await him for his well-intentioned crime, and his sister's joy would be his new last memory of her.

Elaina latches on and begins nursing with a squeak that shifts into a content little sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she settles against her mother's breast. Vex stares in awe, running her shaking fingers through the downy wisps of dark hair on her head, revelling in the fluttering heartbeat.

Percy, chewing his cheek raw in an effort to stay present and stable, sets their son gently in the bassinet he had made, gently covering him with satin and fleece. He looks up and impossibly manages to find Vax where he lurks in the corner, meeting his eyes.

_If you must, do it now_ , his steely eyes seem to say.

Vax has never been a coward - that's a lie, he's been a coward about many things, about his heart and his sins and his spiralling depression, but never about his family. _Never_ about Vex.

He doesn't speak. His throat is tight, choked with the threat of tears. Instead he steps forward, into the dim light of the hanging lamp and the sunrise streaking in through the window. He adjusts his hold on the baby soul and moves silently towards the massive bed, where Vex is still huddled protectively.

She seems to stare through him. Tears spill down her cheeks again at the sight of him. She shakes her head once, twice, again, violently, nearly dislodging Elaina.

"No," she whispers, disbelieving. "No, no, no more, please, not with everything else..."

"Sister," he says hoarsely, perching on the edge of the bed, reaching one cold hand out to hover in front of her. "Vex'ahlia, sister, I love you, I love you, _I love you..._ "

She sobs violently, unable to look away even as it seems to hurt her to keep staring.

" _Both of you_ ," she moans horribly. "She took both of you, _why_ , I don't understand."

He leans forwards to run his fingers through her hair, brushing it out of her face and thumbing away the tears. She gasps and jerks but doesn't pull away, just holds herself rigidly in place and stares at him searchingly.

"It'll all be okay," he soothes, shifting to show her what he holds. Her breath catches in her throat, her grip around Elaina tightening. "He'll be okay."

He rises, forcing himself to separate from her long enough to kneel beside the bassinet and peer in, studying the body. Without the warping of incorporeal form, the baby's face is round and fine-featured and undeniably Vex's child, identical to Elaina. He looks at the soul in his arms and meets his wide blue eyes, smiling gently.

"Time to go home, love," he whispers, standing and letting his wings unfurl. They curl around him, shielding from view the exact details of the process of returning a soul to its body.

A piercing wail shatters the tense silence, forcing dual teary gasps from Vex and Percy. Vax gathers the boy back into his arms, feeling his pulse hammering and his body already warming with leftover divinity. He turns, folding his wings behind him, and meets his sister's eyes again.

"I saw him," he tells her. "Shining brighter than anything I've ever seen."

She reaches out impatiently and yanks him back to her bedside. He lands heavily on the plush mattress as Percy plucks the baby from his arms and holds him tight, staring and running his hands up and down his form, tears streaming down his cheeks.

" _Vex'ahlia_ ," he chokes out, kneeling beside her. "Our boy, look at him, our boy..." He dissolves into messy tears, face pressed against her side.

The boy is still crying, rousing the milk-drunk Elaina. They both fuss until Vex is situated with an infant in each arm, one briefly pulled aside to be burped while the other eats. They both doze off at their mother's breast, peaceful, their hands pressed together.

Vex stares at her brother.

"You..." She starts before cutting herself off. "You're really you?"

"Of course."

"Then why -" her voice breaks. "Why haven't you come home?"

He moves closer again, crawling into the bed to curl around her side. Even exhausted and stinking of sweat and blood and tears she's comforting to hold, to hide his face in her hair and practice breathing again just so they can be in sync.

"I want to," he says hoarsely. "But I'm breaking so many rules just to be here, to do this." He pulls away and cups her face, forcing eye contact. "They're perfect, Vex. I love them, and I love you, and I will still do _anything_ to make you happy. You've made a life for yourself here and I'm so proud of you, I want you to have this forever and I -"

"It's not worth it without you -"

"Isn't it? _Look_ , Vex, look at what you've _made_. I can see it in your face, you're at peace. That's all I ever wanted for you, and even if I'm gone you've proven you can do more than just survive."

She sobs, leaning against him.

"I can't watch you leave me again," she cries into his chest. "Thank you, _thank you_ , but _fuck you_ for making me live this again."

He holds her even as he feels that burning cold tug in his chest, the call to return to Her side. He's surprised he's even had this long. Still, he steels his resolve and shoves aside the tugging at his consciousness in favour of holding his sister and her babies, reaching out a hand to rest on Percy's shoulder.

"Tell me about them?" He asks. "What have you planned, what -" he pauses. "I don't even know their names yet."

"...Elaina," she whispers, shifting to press a kiss to each of the twins' heads. "And Oliver."

He tightens his hold around her, unnecessary breath catching in his throat.

"Elaina Cassandra," Percy adds. "And Oliver Vax'ildan."

" _Fuck_ ," he whispers, his own tears finally beginning to fall.

"They have a nursery next door," Vex continues quietly, head turned away from him. "Light green walls, lots of carpets and lights. A playroom for when they're older. And people are already calling dibs on babysitting and tutoring - Pike will be furious she wasn't here, she barely let us find another midwife saying she'd take care of all that, and I think Grog's already gotten them little weapons, and Cassandra had a crib put in her office so she can watch them while she works..."

Vax lets his eyes slip shut to the sound of his sister's voice as it slowly gains strength. His last vision of his family is not replaced, but layered over Vex'ahlia's despair is the pure euphoria on her face when she first held both of her children together. He clings to it, this vision of the future she's carved out for herself and fought for, and it guides him back into Her embrace.

-

They have six children, in the end.

Oliver has a spot of darker skin over his heart - a feather or a wing or a fingerprint pressed into his skin. He and Elaina have a preternatural sense of where the other is and if they're hurt or upset. A pair of opposites, Oliver is reserved where Elaina is loud, agile where she is clumsy. She reads fiction and histories aloud as he climbs trees and listens from the top branch.

Johanna speaks Celestial before she learns Common, the words flying from her tongue like birdsong. She's often found wandering the castle walls late at night, only in a nightdress and jacket but unbothered by the chill, warmed by the sunlight in her veins as she maps the stars.

Frederick and Julius, a year apart, scrap like alley cats more often than not but are their siblings staunchest defenders. They take to following 'Uncle Grog' like puppies when he visits, climbing him and riding his shoulders. Their mother is a god's Champion, their family are heroes of Exandria, and one day they will be strong, too.

The youngest names themself Hope. Their horns jut from their forehead and swoop back across their head and their skin is red and freckled. Their parents' biting wit comes out full force in them, but so too does the driving need to fix what is broken. Their room becomes a menagerie of birds with broken wings and abandoned litters and one particularly charming chipmunk.

Castle Whitestone is filled with laughter and a crowd of running footsteps, chasing away the last clinging spectres of undead rule. Years pass, and Percival and Cassandra see portraits of their family restored to the halls of their home. There is comfort in the thought that the old generations, the ones who were failed, can watch over the new and see their triumphs.

The twins stay in Whitestone with their father for the most part, occasionally travelling with their mother to Syngorn to watch her work. Once, there would have been pressure to learn to rule, and the knowledge that Elaina would someday lead alone. Now, with the Council in place, Oliver and Elaina are assured positions side by side either as leaders of citizens, and they are free to learn as they will.

Johanna has the Dawnfather's blessing stamped on her soul. She grows up at the base of the Sun Tree, feeling the similar rush of divinity through its core. Sunlight pours from her, brightens her eyes and lightens her step, but she finds her passion in the night sky. The stars capture her attention like nothing else, and her studies take her across Tal'dorei and beyond to discover the mysteries of the cosmos.

Frederick becomes a soldier, but finds the ranks too stifling and sets off to follow his family's footsteps and make his way in the world by his own merit. Julius follows at first, but finds his calling in Vassalheim at the Platinum Sanctuary amongst the wyvern riders. They collect scars and stories, and one day hope to live up to the legacy that's been left to them.

Hope stays home for a long time, content in their rooms with their creatures and their tutors. The rest of the world is cruel, anyway. They see it in peoples' faces, hear it in the poorly-masked whispers that follow them whenever they leave Whitestone, or even just the castle ground. There's little room in the world for a noble child with demon blood. So they learn to carve their own place. Vex'ahlia takes them out into the Parchwood, shows them tracks and dens and carcasses, teaches them about the world beyond 'civilization'. In time, they become the Healer to her Huntress, an equally revered fixture in the wilds of the surrounding mountains.

There is life in Whitestone, in the castle, in the house of de Rolo.

Percival grows into his hair, face lining with age and body softening over time. His tinkering amounts to little more than clockwork, and there is a simple euphoria in seeing his creations lining shelves and in his children's hands, wholly innocent. He sits at his little sister's right hand and watches her lead, her jaw squared and shoulders set in the same stubborn way that he remembers from childhood.

Vex'ahlia sees her brother grow older in the mirror, and hears him eternally young in her children's laughter. The half of her heart that was Vax's, the part that once felt scarred numb and immobile, beats again with every breath she watches Oliver take, unsteady but warm in her chest. She tends to the snowdrops in the Parchwood and feeds Keyleth's raven and keeps the graveyard temple in good repair for the occasional visitor, often a follower of the Matron from Vassalheim come to pay respects.

They never speak of what happened the night the twins were born. That is theirs - mostly Vex's, mostly her last memory of her stupid, selfless brother and his stupid, limitless heart, cradling her firstborn children so carefully, looking at her with such _pride_. Percy's too, a stolen moment of quiet to replace the burning anger he'd felt before at his inability to fix things.

There is healing, years in the making. There is life in Castle Whitestone.


End file.
